What You'll Never Have
by Sugarandcream
Summary: Hanging from the ceiling by his wrists, L's body was limp, and the vulnerability of it unraveling...  BxL! warnings: tort. yaoi etc..


Ch. 1

Hanging from the ceiling by his wrists, L's body was limp, and the vulnerability of it unraveling.

B's jagged nails scraped down L's stomach, the blood pricking to the surface of L's skin in their wake. B increases his pressure, and on his knees he can see the blood trickle down to L's hip bone where B can gently and slowly lick. He takes his time, savoring the taste of flesh and blood and shaking with the thrill of new power as he revels in L's shallow gasps. But soon the blood starts coming too fast and it envelopes his tongue as it runs down L's thigh and over B's mouth. At this, B steps back for a moment, to drink in what he has accomplished. And god, it's beautiful. L is staring at him, lost, confused. Shaking. L speaks like he needs, "B…"

But he can't go on, and B has to bite his lip to stop the bursts of giggles from progressing to jumping up and down.

He had started just wanting to know what his idol thought about him, why he had been avoiding him for the past 2 years. He only wanted a conversation and he had tried to start one, many in fact, but L refused to talk about even small things like his classes, or his dreams, or his thoughts about Interpol and the position of L, none of it! And now L simply kept repeating that B should let him down and that he would talk with him then. Obviously, this was a trick. L would just walk away, he had done so before. That's why this time, B had made sure he couldn't leave.

But L wasn't talking, and B was getting increasingly frustrated. Finally, after the 22nd attempt to engage L in a real conversation he snapped. That first resounding slap, the sting of his fingers, the profile angle of L's face and the redness of his cheek. That first adrenaline spike, satisfied B in ways it shouldn't have. Such power over the only person that had ever mattered to him. It was wrong. L was so perfect, B certainly didn't have the right to hurt him and this almost made B stop. But he had become immediately addicted, intoxicated. And he had slapped L again before he had even decided to.

And after the second slap, as B brought his hand gently to L's face, feeling the heat from his flushed cheek, suddenly L wanted to talk. Perhaps it was only reasoning. Explaining to B how he should stop, or other useless things, but B would never know.

It was like the world had been slowed down and muted, but all other sensation had been increased extravagantly. B brought his hand down to L's neck, gently feeling his pulse, his collar bone. He reached both hands up to L's tied wrists, up to his fingers. L looked like he had left his body, eyes glazed over, as if absolutely nothing real could touch him, as if B wasn't; couldn't. B clasped L's hands in his and wondered how long L thought he'd be able to ignore him. Surely L had a precise amount of time or a certain amount of pain to his threshold, no matter what he might be projecting.

B's face was close to L's now, his weight leaned against L, their positions mirrored. L's fingers felt comforting, though they had not moved at all. L's lack of panic, his self induces calm, having someone to lean, that all felt comforting too and as good as it felt, it hurt. B did not ever feel comfort and for the feeling to come now. B jerked away from L, his arm positioning throwing him slightly off balance and he moved to a crouch, feet away from him.

* * *

The first time B and L, it was inappropriate. A ten year old B had snuck down to the kitchen, as he did every night, to find a teenage boy already there, eating frosting from a can. B knew who he was immediately though he was younger than expected, sitting on the edge of the corner of the counter. How was he supposed to replace someone only five or so years older than him? L was staring as B went to get his Jam and spoon and continued to stare as B stood against the cabinet, eating, watching L watch him.

Lazily, B threw his spoon onto the table and instead, slowly put his index finger into the jar, scooped up some jam and sucked it off staring back at L. The next time it was two fingers and soon his whole hand, the sucking noises getting more pronounced each time. No reaction, so B walked up to him.

B smiled, slightly cocky as he held out his jam sticky hand to the teenager. "I'm B."

"That's interesting."

Up close, L suddenly looked more dangerous than before as he looked down at the hand. And then L carefully grabbed B's wrist, pulling him forward and into the space between his legs, as he brought the hand up to his mouth. B was too stunned, as L began to slowly suck and lick the rest of the jam off, his eyes finally closing as he worked. B's body had suddenly gone hot and cold. He ripped his hand away seconds later, backing into the table behind him as his mind reeled.

L went back to his icing, concentrating entirely on it as B normalized. It was B that was staring at L now, and strangely B wanted his attention back. In fact he was becoming more angry as he stood there and without preamble, he walked up to L, grabbed his icing, and stalked out of the room.

* * *

Hi everyone! Thank you for reading. This will hopefully be a multi chapter fic. this being the intro. I have a plan but scene suggestion, constructive criticism, and any comments are appreciated. I hope you enjoyed!


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